


How To Survive

by Staubengel



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, Ravager Ronan, Ronan teaching Peter Ravager business, and teenager Peter, being a team, but not a couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 15:38:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10250396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Staubengel/pseuds/Staubengel
Summary: Part of my 700 followers special on tumblr. For scorpling/bluethenstaub who requested: Ravager!Ronan tries to teach Quill how to survive among people without getting almost killed every five minutes.Only took me 5 months :''')





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bluethenstaub](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluethenstaub/gifts).



”So, what is your plan?“ Ronan asked his teenage team partner as he steered their ship towards the planet their mission was waiting on.

“My plan?” Peter looked up from where he had been trying so solve one of those horrible three-dimensional riddles on his little screen. “Since when do you listen to my plans?”

“I don’t,” Ronan corrected him. “But I pray for the day your plans actually become a support rather than a hindrance for our missions. So I will keep on trying to teach you how a good plan works by telling you why your plans are simply terrible.”

“Wow, how nice,” Peter muttered. “Thanks for boosting my confidence.”

“It is a fact that you almost get yourself killed wherever you go,” the Kree stated.

“Only because I’m no 6 foot 4 tall, mean-looking, blue, muscular fighting machine with anger issues,” Peter grumbled more to himself than to Ronan. The Kree heard it anyway and grunted back.

“Rather because of your inability to keep your mouth shut and your habit of talking yourself into trouble,” he stated.

Peter grumbled another thing to himself, but this time it was incomprehensible.

“What was that?” Ronan asked.

“Nothing,” Peter snorted.

The Kree nodded. “Thought so,” he said. He skillfully landed the ship on the docks and turned off the engines. “Now, what is your plan?”

“What? I don’t know,” Peter shrugged. “I don’t have a plan. We just walk into this bar, find the guys, sell them the artifact and off we go again with a shitton of money. Isn’t that the mission?”

“It is,” Ronan confirmed. “But it is not as easy as it sounds.”

“If this is a reference to that one time I accidentally talked to the wrong guy who then wanted to turn me in, that’s not funny,” Peter whined. “I learned my lesson from that, okay, so don’t bring this up again!”

“I was not referring to this incident,” Ronan assured, though a smirk played in the corners of his mouth. “Though it is a good example as to why preparation is important.”

Peter bit back the urge to tell Ronan just _how_ important preparation was exactly in certain situations. It would be very inappropriate right now.

“So what is _your_ plan then, boss?” he asked instead. “What are we gonna do?”

“Basically what you suggested,” Ronan replied. “But without getting in trouble.” He got up from his seat and climbed downstairs, to the exit of the ship.

Peter rolled his eyes and followed him. He was 15, almost 16 now, so he had lived almost half his life with the Ravagers. Yondu had consigned him to Ronan’s care about a year ago and from there on Peter had been on missions with the Kree renegade. He was of course still a trainee and so Ronan loved to order him around. But Peter still felt that he was learning from the older Ravager. Ronan hated to play his nanny, so he made sure his protegé was actually trained to be of use one day.

Peter had always respected and even admired Ronan. The Kree had never been mean or insulting to him, unlike Yondu. He had never approached Peter on his own, but whenever Peter had come to him, Ronan had always shown him some tips and tricks or had answered his questions. He had done so calmly and professionally, without mocking or making fun of him. Of course, Ronan teased Peter a little, but it was never cruel and never had been. He hadn’t complained either when Yondu had told him that Peter would be his new partner. It actually meant Yondu trusted Ronan enough to let him take care of Yondu’s little boy and to be able to get the missions done even with a trainee holding him back. It was a weird kind of honour. Peter knew that and he was thankful that Ronan took him along without blaming him for being a burden.

He followed the Kree downstairs and grabbed his red Ravager leather jacket and his blaster to strap it to his belt. He was good at shooting with this. Even Ronan told him that whenever he used it.

The Kree himself preferred his warhammer that he now strapped to his back before he turned to see if Peter was ready. The teenager smiled at him and Ronan nodded. Then they both left the ship to start with their mission.

 

 

The bar they went in had the exact vibe you would expect from a place where a team of Ravagers was supposed to meet with a client. Every single customer looked like they were wanted for crime all across the galaxy and like it was better not to mess with them. Peter tried not to stare but failed miserably. No matter how long he already lived in space, he was still fascinated by it anew every day.

“Stop looking at them,” Ronan advised. “If you make eye contact with the wrong person, they will murder you.”

Peter swallowed and caught up to Ronan to walk beside him. Better make it clear to everyone that he was with this huge, hunky fighting machine.

He followed the Kree over to a table that was occupied by only one single man. He glanced up at them as they stopped in front of his table and studied them suspiciously. Ronan tapped his thumb against his chin to indicate they were the ones this man was waiting for. Their client gave a short nod in return.

Peter was fascinated by that conversation which only worked with subtle gestures. Yondu had explained some of them to him, but he had never used them himself. Only as he felt Ronan _casually_ brush his arm against Peter’s did the boy realise he was supposed to sit down.

“Do you have it?” the man asked immediately. His voice was so husky that it sounded like stones grinding against each other. Peter swallowed nervously once more.

“Yes,” Ronan replied, sounding as calm and controlled as ever. “The boy has it.”

Did he? “Do I?” Peter looked over at Ronan with big eyes in confusion. Ronan glared back at him and the look in his eyes sent a shiver down Peter’s spine. Obviously, he had fucked up.

“I do!” he quickly ‘remembered’ and began to search his pockets. Ronan and their client both watched him and Peter felt their eyes burning right into him. Seconds after seconds passed while he searched everywhere for the little bundle and just couldn’t find it.

“Uuuhm,” Peter tried to somehow break the awkward silence. “Hold on, it’s… gotta be somewhere… Just a sec, uh… Maybe it’s here…?”

With an annoyed groan, Ronan reached over and pulled the bundle out of Peter’s back pocket.

“Rookie,” he explained as he shoved the package over to the other man. “Still has to learn how to prepare a handover.”

“I don’t care,” the guy stated. He opened the bundle and took the golden idol in hand, studying it from every angle. Then he nodded and put it down on the table. “Fifteen thousand units if I remember correctly,” he addressed Ronan.

“Uh,” Peter chimed in. “I thought it was eighteen thousand.”

Their customer glared at him. “Fifteen thousand. I won’t pay a unit more.”

“But it’s eighteen thousand,” Peter insisted. “I’m certain of that.”

“Fifteen thousand,” the man repeated with gritted teeth. “Don’t make me angry, kid.”

“Maybe we can negotiate,” Peter suggested as confident as he could manage. “Maybe we can agree on something that we both think fitting.”

The man growled and made an attempt to get up from his chair. Ronan ever so subtly placed his hand in the middle of the table. Both Peter and their client turned their attention towards him.

“Eighteen thousand,” Ronan made clear. “That is the fee we agreed on. You can either pay it or I will take the idol and leave. Your choice.”

Their customer growled again but sank back into his chair. He and Ronan stared at each other for a moment, then he got out his transaction device with a huff.

“That’s a bad deal,” he complained. “I thought it was fifteen thousand or I wouldn’t have agreed to it.”

Ronan didn’t say anything and simply swept out his own transaction device to accept the eighteen thousand units. Peter nervously chewed on his lower lip.

As the transaction was completed, Ronan nodded and got up from his chair. “I am glad we could carry out this deal without any trouble,” he said and even though it sounded casual, Peter knew it really meant ‘If you wouldn’t have paid the eighteen thousand, you would have regretted it deeply’. Peter also knew right there and then that he would never be able to be this subtly intimidating.

He got up too and cleared his throat nervously while arranging his jacket. “So, uhm…” he stammered. “Yeah. Good deal. Thanks, bro. See you again soon. Hopefully next time you will remember the right price, or else Ronan might be going to –“

The Kree growled and grabbed the collar of Peter’s jacket to ruggedly drag him along. Judging from the absolutely deadly glare of their customer, that was probably for the better.

“Shut up, will you,” Ronan hissed as he pulled Peter with him towards the door. “I told you that your blabbering will get you killed someday and here you are, doing it again!”

“I can’t help it,” Peter whined as he tried to keep up with his teammate. Being dragged along by someone that fast and strong could be very painful. Also, it just looked embarrassing in front of all those hardcore criminals around. “The words just come out of my mouth, I can’t stop them. I just try to be as cool and effortless as you, but instead, I’m a failure. This sort of superior behaviour just isn’t my style…”

“You’re right, it isn’t,” Ronan confirmed and shoved Peter out into the cool air of the evening. “That’s why you are you and not me. But you still have to learn what you should _not_ say or do in order to survive, and you clearly have a long way ahead of you on this matter.”

Peter pulled a face but nodded sheepishly. “Yeah, alright,” he mumbled. “I will try to hold back next time we’re on a mission.”

“And still I am certain you will mess it up again,” Ronan stated and set in motion towards their ship.

Peter pouted, a little miffed, but followed after his supervisor quickly.

“Hey,” he called and hurried so he ended up at Ronan’s side. “How about we do a roleplay so I get used to the right behaviour while not being in danger of actually getting killed by somebody?”

Ronan snorted. “Who says I would not actually kill you if you become too annoying?” he asked without any hint of humour in his voice.

Peter only grinned, though, and hopped a few steps just to fuck with the Kree beside him. “You not wanting to tell Yondu that you killed me, that’s who says,” he chirped. “Also you said yourself that I make excellent meals and you don’t want to miss out on that.”

Ronan only grunted. Peter grinned wider.

“Maybe in return for you teaching me how to survive, I can teach you how to cook,” he suggested cheerfully. “Or to dance! Or both! You know, sometimes dancing can save your life, actually. There is this one movie on Terra, where the protagonist is –“

Ronan interrupted him with another loud grunt and Peter had to bite back a giggle. “No dancing!” the Kree growled. “It looks ridiculous and your Terran music inflicts massive headaches!”

“Aaaw, come on!” Peter begged jokingly and hopped again. “Come on, let me dance, Roro! Let me –“

The Kree suddenly whirled around and grabbed Peter’s shoulders, squeezing them so tightly that it almost hurt. Peter yelped in surprise and instinctively leaned back to escape Ronan’s fierce glare.

“Here is some crucial advice on how not to get killed,” the Ravager snarled threateningly. Peter stared at him with wide eyes, his heart pounding in his chest. When Ronan was angry, he was so intimidating that even the Terran lost all sense of sassiness.

“You better listen to it carefully, or I will _gladly_ tell Yondu that I killed you, no regrets. Do you hear me?” he asked.

Peter nodded quickly, making a positive sound.

“Good,” Ronan whispered darkly and leaned in a bit more. “Then listen closely now, listen very closely, Peter. Do not ever – I repeat: Do not _EVER,_ under any circumstances – call me Roro again.”


End file.
